GRADY COUNTY PROGRESS, CAIRO. GEORGIA.
The Gall of fhe
Gumberlands
By Charles Neville Beck
With Illustrations'
from Photographs of Scenes
in the Play
(Copyright, ton, by W, J, JYitt & Co.)
SYNOPSIS.
Heretofore Ills Instructors had held
hint rigidly to the limitations oC black
and white, but now they took off tho
bonds and permitted him tho colorful
delight of attempting to express him
self from the palette. It was like per
mitting a natural poet to leave prose
and ploy with prosody.
One day Adrienne looked up from a
sheaf of his very creditable landscape
studies to Inquire suddenly:
“Samson, are you a rich man or n
poor one?"
He laughed. "So rich,” he told her,
|,“that unless I can turn some of this
stuff Into money within a year or two
I shall have to go back to hoeing
corn." 1
She nodded gravely.
"Hasn't It occurred to you," she
demanded, "that In a way you are
wasting your gifts? They were talk
On Misery creek Sally Miller finds lng about >° u the other evening—sev-
George LeBeott, a landscape painter, un- eral painters. They all said that you
oonsc oua. Jesse Purvy of the Ilollman ho Hnln „ nnrlrnita "
clan has been shot and Samson la sus- s “OUltt be aping portraits.
El 0 * 6 *,,?.',,* 1 ' 8 . lcl ' lm 1 e - Samson denies It. The Kentuckian smiled. His mas-
The shooting breaks the- truce In the . . . _ . ... . ,
Hollman-South feud. Lescott dlscovors ters had been telling him the same
fk&ihL , ln a , Samson : Samson thing. He had fallen In love with art
thrashes Tamarack Spicer and denounces ® . ..
him as tho "truce-buster" who shot Purvy. through the appeal of the Bkles and
1 Samson tolls the South clan that he Is hills. He had followed Its call at the
going to leave tho mountains. LeBeott I ■ . .. w t f
goes homo to New York. 'Samson bids Proselyting of George Lescott, Who
Spicer and Sally farewell and follows, in painted only landscape. Portraiture
New York Samson studies art and learns anex , „ ovnrM ,
much of city ways. Drcnnle Lescott per- seemed a lees artistic form of expres
suedes . Wilfred Horton, her dilettante L slon. He said so. *
lover, to do a man’s work in the world. Iirp ..
Prompted by her love, Sally tenches her- • That may all be very true, sne
self to write. Horton throws himself into conceded, “but you cau go on with
. the business world and becomes well ■ • , n „j onnnrto
hated by predatory financiers and polltl- >OUr landscapes and let your por
clans. At a Bohemian resort Samson traits pay the way. And," she added,
meets William Farblsh, sporty social par- „ T TY ,«riot«ntnlv
aslte, and Horton’s enemy. Farblsh con- since I am very vain and moderately
spires with others to make Horton jeal- rich, I hereby commission you to
ous. and succeeds. Farblsh brings Horton : . . , _
and Samson together at the Kenmoro P&int me, just as soon as you learn
club’s shooting lodge, and forces an opon how.”
Farblsh bad simply dropped out. Bit
of the crusader. Samson exposes tho plot by bit the truth of the conspiracy had
und "- 1 lenked, and be knew that bis useful
and thrashes the conspirators.
ness was ended and that well-lined
pocketbooks would no longer open to
ills profligate demands.
CHAPTER XI—Continued.
"George Lescott brought mb up here
and befriended me. Until a year ago , . Q .
» i.„n , „ - Sally had started to school. She
I had never Known any life, except |, , , iv.i _t, n „ nnt ,i i.
,, , « Piimiijniihn^ mnnnfaino I had. not tinnounccu that she meant to
that of the Cumberland mountains. . . .
T - t x*i__ T -i „ OUQV do so, but each day the people of Misery
Until I met Miss Lescott, I had never * * . * 1 „ u _
« „„ » •saw her old sorrel mare making its
known a woman of ) our world. • ohe I . » ,. , __
___ , . fV ,_ f * n >yay to and from the general direction
was good to-me. She saw that m ' ”,
spite of my roughness and ignorance I
wanted to learn, and she taught me.
You chose to misunderstand, and dis
liked me. These men saw that, and
believed that, if they could make you
Insult me, they could make me kill
No one knew how Sally's cheeks
flamed as she sat alone on Saturdays
and Sundays on the. rook at the back
bone’s rift. - She was taking her place,
morbidly sensitive and a woman of
iggested Samson South, (..rover, ner reacner, riuing o> er one
“South,Alt you are willing to shake fay to And out why her prise scholar
tnds with me I shall be grateful. I bad ' de f,f 1| raet -, a f the - r ° a f an
ay as well admit that, if . you had «®F- J 0 ’ 1 wa e°n. followed , by a
you. As to your part, they succeeded, o ghteen, among little spindle-shanked
I didn't see fit to oblige them, but, 8 r 8 ln 8bort sklr ‘ 8 ' an f ‘ be 1M f»
now that I've settled with them. I'm] girls - -were more advanced than sh
willing to give you satisfaction. Do But she too, meant to have "l'arn n ’•
we fight now and shake hands after-, aa much of it as was necessary to sat-
ward, or do we shake llmnds without ‘sfy the lover whojnighLnever come
fighting?” 1 And yet - tbe fotched-on” teachers at
Horton stood silently studying the ‘he “college” thought her the most
mountaineer voraciously ambitious pupil they hac(
“Good God!" he exclaimed at last. ever bad - 80 unflagglngly did she toll,
“And you are the man I undertook to and the most remarkably acquisitive,
criticize!” ’ so fast did she learn. But her studies
“You ain't answered my question,” b “d a S ain beel > Interrupted, and Miss
suggested Samson South. |,Grover, her teacher, riding oyer one
_ uri, .viiii
hands
thrashed "me before that crowd, ^ I ««SK« d cortege of mounted; men and
could hardly have succeeded In mak- Women, whose faces were still lugu-
lag me feel smaller. I have played brl ° U8 , wltb „ tbe effort of ^recent
into their hands. I have been a damned I mourning. Her question elicited the
fool. I have riddled my own self-1 Information that hey were returning
respect-and If you can afford, to ac- rom tbe bur > ,la '” of the Widow Mll-
cept my apologies and my'hand I am I * er
offering you both.” i „ „ . . .... .
. , . . I .Towards the end of that year Sam-
the mountain boy. gravely. -I .told 800 undertook hie portrait of Adri-
you I'd just as lief shake hands aa enne Lescott The work was nearing
fight. . . . But just now I've got to completion, but it had fieen agreed
_ ‘ •> that the girl herself was not to have
S °rm, P ' .. a peep at the canvas until the painter
The booth was in the same room wag ready tQ unvei , it , n B flnished
and, as Horton waited, he recognized conditlon- often aa she posed w „,
the numb^ or which Samson was f red Horton idled ln the studlo wtth
« a 1" a h! 1 /, ! HZ S and often George Lescott came
flushed vvlth the old prejudice. ^ Could crltlclze and left without erlticiz-
Was he, after all, the braggart who
boasted of his fights? And, if not,
was
message? He turned and "went Into
the hall, but, after a few minutes, re-1
turned.
“I'm glad you liked the show
the mountaineer was saying. “No, |
day when she, too, was to see the pic
ture, concerning which the three men
neu ul um “5“«‘ ‘ I maintained so profound a secrecy. She
it Samson s custom t o call her w Sam80n a tater whQ
. E "^ analyzed with his brush, and that his
picture would show her not only fea
tures and. expression, hut tho man’s
| estimate of herself.
“Do you know,” he said one day,
nothing "speclar* is happening here- I coming °nt from behind his easel and
except that the ducks are plentiful, studying her, through half-closed eyes.
Yes I like it fine ' Mr 1 never really began to know you un-
Horton's here. Wait a ' minute-i U 11 n ° w ' Analyzing you-studylng you
guess maybe he'd like to talk to you." n this-fashion, not by your words, but
m Th*e Kentuckian beckoned to Hor- ^ y° ur expression, your pose, the
m ton: and. as he Surrendered the re . very unconscious essence of your per-
' ceiver, left the. room. He was (hlnk-1 BOnalj&—these things are illuminat
ing with a smile df the unconscious Ine '
iiumor with which the girl's voice had “Although I am not painting you,”
- just come across the wire: she said with a smile, “I have been
"I knew that if you two met each studying you, too. As you stand there
other you would become friends." before your canvas your own person-
“I reckon,;' said Samson, ruefully, wvealed-and I have not been
when Horton joined him. “we'd better ^observant myself." -
look around and see how bad those I “And under the X-ray scrutiny of
follows are hurt in there. They may tu 8 profound analysis," he said with
need a doctor." And the two went a ) aagb ; do.you like me.
hack to find several startled servants . Walt and BGe - she retorted,
assisting to their beds the disabled “At all events”—he spoke gravely-
combatants, and the next morning “you must try to like me a little, be-
their inquiries elicited the informa- cause I am not what I was. The per-
tion that the gentlemen were all “able son that, I am Is largely, the creature
to-be about, but were breakfasting in of yoUr own fashioning. Of course
their rooms ' you had very raw material to work
Such as looked from their windows''Kith, and you can't make a silt purse
that morning saw an' unexpected ell- ° £ "—he broke off and smiled well,
max, when the car of Mr. Wilfred of,me, but in time you may at least
Horton drove away from the club car- got uie mercerized a little,
rylng the man whom they had hoped For no visible reason she flushed,
to see killed and the man they had and her next question came a trifle
hoped to- see kill him. The two ap- eagerly:
peared to be in excellent spirits and “Do you mean I have Influenced
thoroughly congenial as the car rolled you?”
out of sight, nud the gentlemen who “Influenced me, Drennie?” ho re
wore left behlnd decided that, in view ipeated. “You have done more than
of the circumstances, the “extraordl- that. You have painted me out and
nary spree 1 ' of last night had best go painted me over.”
Unadvertised into ancient history.
CHAPTER XII.
She shook her head, and in her eyes
danced a light of subtle coquetry.
“There are things I have tried to
do, and failed," she told him.
His eyes showed surprise.
“Perhaps," he apologized, "I am
The second year of a new order
brings fewer radical changes than the
first. Samson’s work began to forge
out of tfie ranks of the ordinary and dense, and you may have to tell mo
to show symptoms of a quality which bluntly what I am to do. But -you
Would some day .give it distinction. I know that you have only to tell me.
For a moment she Bald nothing,
then shook hor head again.
"Issue your orders," hq Insisted. "I
am waiting to obey."
She hesitated again, theu said,
slowly:
Have your hair out. It's the one
uncivilized tjilng about you."
For an Instant Samson's' faco hard
ened. ' r
"No," he said; "I don't .care to do
that."
“Oh, vqry well!” Bhe laughed lightly.
"In that event, of courso, you shouldn’t
do It." But her smile faded, and aftor
a moment he explained:
“You see. It wouldn’t do."
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I've got to keep some
thing as It was to remind me of a prior
claim on my life."
For an InBtant the girl's face cloud
ed and grew deeply troubled.
“You don’t mean,” she asked, with
an outburst of interest more vehement
than she had meant to show, or real
ized she was showing—"you don’t
mean that you still adhere to ideas of
the vendetta?" Then she bfoke off
with a laugh, a rather nervouB laugh.
"Of course not," she answered her
self. “That would be too absurd 1"
"Would It?" asked Samson, simply.
He glanced at his watch. “Two min
utes up,” he announced. “The model
will please resume the pose. By the
way, may I drive with you tomorrow
afternoon?"
The next afternoon Samson ran up
the Btreet steps of the Lescott house
and rang the bell, and a few moments
later Adrienne appeared. The car was
waiting outside, and, aa the girl came
down the stairs in motor coat and
veil, she paused and her fingers on tho
banister tightened in surprise as she
looked at the man who stood below
holding his hat 1n his hand, with Ills
face upturned. The well-shaped head
was no longer marred by the mane
which It had formerly worn, but was
close cropped, and under the trans
forming influence of the change the
forehead seemed- bolder and higher,
and to her thinking the strength ot
the purposeful features was enhanced,
and yet, had she known It, the man
felt that he had for the first time sur
rendered a point which meant an aban
donment of something akin to prin
ciple.
She said nothing, but as she took
his hand in greeting her Angers
pressed his own - in handclasp more
lingering than usual.
Late that evening, when Samson re
turned to the studio, he found a mis
sive in his letter box, and, as he took
it out, his eyes fell on the postmark,
It was dated from Hlxon, Kentucky,
and, as the man slowly climbed the
stairs, he turned, the envelope over in
his hand with a strange sense of mis
giving and premonition.
The letter was written in the
cramped hand of Brother Spencer.
Through’Its faulty-diction ran a plain'
ly discernible undernote of disapproval
for SaniBon, though there was no word
of reproof or criticism. It was plain
that It was sent as a matter of cour
tesy to one who, having proved an
apostate, scarcely merited such consid
eration. It informqd him that old
Spicer South had been “mighty pore-
ly," but was now better, barring the
breaking of age. Everyone was “tol
erable." Then came the- announce
ment which the letter had been writ
ten to convey.
The term of the South-Hollman truce
had ended, and it had been renewed
for an indefinite period.
■ "Some of your folks thought they
ought to let you know because they
promised to give you a say,” wrote
the informant. “But they decided that
it couldn’t hardly make no difference
to you, since you have left the moun
tains, and if you carted anything about
It, you knew the time, and could of
been hero. Hoping this finds you
well."
Samson’s face clouded. He threw
the soiled and scribbled missive down
on the table and qat with unseeing
eyes fixed on the studio wali. So, they
had cast him out of their councils'
They already thought of him as one
who had been.
In that passionate rush of feeling
everything that' had happened since
he had~left Misery seemed artificial
and dreamlike. He longed for the
realities that were forfeited. He wont
ed to press himself close to the great,
gray shoulders of rook that broke
through the greenery like giants tear
ing off soft raiment. Those were his
people back there. He should be run
ning with tho wolf pack, not coursing
with beagles.
He had been telling himself that he
was loyal and now he realized that he
was drifting like the lotus eaters,
He rose and paced the floor, with
teeth and hands clenched and the
sweat standing out on his forehead,
His advisers had of late been urging
him to go to Paris. He had refused
and his unconfessed reason had been
that in Paris he could not answer
sudden call. He would go back to
them now and compel them to admit
his leadership.
Then his eyes fell on tho unfinished
portrait of Adrienne. The face gazed
at him with Its grave sweetness; Its
fragrant subtlety and its fine-grained
delicacy. Her pictured lips were b1-
lently arguing for the life he bad
found among strangers, and her vic
tory would have been an easy one, but
for the fact that just now his con
science seemed to be on - the other
side. Samson’s civilization was two
years old—a thin veneer over a cen
tury of feudalism—and now the cen
tury was thundering Its call of blood
bondage. But, as tho man struggled
over the dilemma, the pendulum
swung back. The hundred years had
left, also, a heritage of quickness and
bitterness to resent Injury and Injus
tice. His own people lmd cast him gave Adrlonno carte blanche to hrowso
out. They had branded him ns- tho | aipong his portfolios and stackod can-
desorter; they felt no need of him or —*" *-* *- - * *“
his counset. Very well, let them lmvo
It so. His problem had been Bottled
for him. His Gordian knot wns out.
Sally ahd his undo alono lmd Ills
address. Tills letter, casting him out,
must have been authorized by them,
Brother Sfiencer acting merely as
amanuensis. They, too, had repudi
ated him—and, If thnt were true, ox-
qept for the graves ot hts parentB,
the hills had no tie to hold him.
"Sally, Sally!" he groaned, dropping
his face on his crossed arms, while
his shoulders heaved- In an agony of
heartbreak, and hU wordB camo ln tho
old, crude syllables: "I ’lowed you’d
believe in me ef hell froze l” He roso
after that, and made a florce gesture
with his clenched lists. "All right,"
he said, bitterly, “I'm shott ot the lot
of ye. I'm done
But It was easier to say the words
of repudiation than to cut tho tics
that were knotted about his heart.
With a rankling soul, tho mountain
eer left New York. He wrote Sally a
brief noto, telling her thnt ho wits go
lug to cross the ocean, but his hurt
pride forbade his pleading for her con
fidence, or adding, "I lbve you." Ho
plunged Into the art life of the "other
side ot the Seine,” and worked vora
ciously. He was trying to learn
much—and to forget muoh.
One sunny afternoon when Samson
had been ln the Quartier Latin for
eight or nine months the concierge of
his lodgings handed him, as ho passed
through the cour, an envelope ad
dressed In the hand of Adrienne Les
cott. As he read It ho felt a glow of
pleasurable surprise, and, wheeling, he
retraced his steps briskly to Ills lodg
ings, where he began to pack. Adri
enne had written that Bin? and hor
mother and Wilfred Horton were sail
ing for Naples, and commanded him,
unless he were too busy, to moet their
steamer. Within two hours ho wns
bound for Lucerne to cross the Italian
frontier by the slate-blue waters of
Lake Magglore.
A few weeks later Samson and Ad
rienne were standing together by
moonlight In the > ruins of the Coll
Beum. The junketing about Italy had
vases until Ills return. In a few min
utes she discovered one of those ef
forts which she called his "rebellious
pictures."
These wore such things as ho paint
ed, using no model except memory
perhaps, not for the making of finished
pictures, but merely to give outlet to
Ills feelings; an outlet which sorno
men might have found in talk.
This particular canvas was roughly
blocked In, sml It was elementally
simple, but each brush stroke had
been thrown against tho surface with
the concentrated flro and onorgy ot a
blow, except the strokes that had
pulnted the face, ahd there the brush
had seemed to kiss the canvas. Tho
picture showod a barefooted girl,
standing, In barbaric simplicity of
dresB, ln tho glare of the arena, whllo
a gaunt lion crouched eyeing her. Her
head was lifted as though she wero
listening to faraway music. In tho
eyes wns indomitable courage. Thnt
canvas was at once a declaration ot
love, and a miserere. Adrienne sot
it up beBlde her own portrait, and, as
she studied the two with her chin rest
ing on her gloved hand, her oyos
cleared of questioning. Now she know
what Bhe missed ln her own more
beautiful likeness. It had been paint
ed with all the admiration of the mind.
Tho other had been dashed oil straight
from the heart—and this other was
Sally! She replaced the sketch where
she had found It, and Samson return
ing found her busy with little sketches
of tho Solno.
» *
“Drennie," pleaded Wilfred Horton
as the two leaned on the rail _of the
Mauretania, returning from .Europe
"are you - going to hold me off In
definitely? I’ve served my seven
yonrs for Rachel, and thrown ln somo
extra time. Am I no nearer the goal?’’.
The girl looked at tho oily hoave of
tho leaden and cheorleBS Atlantic, and
Its somber tones found reflection ln
her eyes. She shook hor hoad.
"I wish 1 know," she said, wearily.
Thon Bhe added vehemently: “I’m not
worth it, Wilfred. Let mo go. Chuck
me out of your life ns a little pig who
can't read her own heart; viho Is too
utterly selfish to decide upon- her own
life."
“Is it”—he put the question with
foreboding—“that, after all, I was a
prophet? Have you —and South —
wiped your feet on the doormat
marked ‘Platonic friendship?’ Have
you dono that, Drennie?"
She looked up Into his e;res. Her
own were wide and honest and very
full of pain.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
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A Cascaret to-night straightens you
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sweet stomach and clean, heulthy liver
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Tip Topics.
The Gourmund—I suppose you've
lmd to put up with "Tipperary” ever
since tho war started?
Tho Walter (hlu labor unrewarded)
—Yes, sir, afid tip a rarity.—London
Tutler.
His Eyes Fell on the Postmark.
been charming, and now ln that circle
of Bepia softness and broken coiumns
he looked at her and suddenly asked
himself:
“Just what does she mean to you?"
If he had never asked himself (hat
question before he knew now that it
must some day be answered. Friend
ship had been a good and seemingly
a sufficient definition. Now he was not
so sure that It could remain so.
Then his thoughts went back to a
cabin in the hills and a girl in calico.
He heard a voice like the voice of a
song bird saying through tears'.
"I couldn't live without ye, Samson.
. . . I jest couldn’t do hit!"
For a moment he was sick of hts life.
It seemed that there stood before him.
ln that place of historic wraiths and
memories, a girl, her eyes sad, but
loyal, and without reproof.
“You look,” said Adrienne, studying
hts countenance in the pallor of tho
moonlight, "as though you were see
ing ghosts."
“I am," said Samson. “Let’s go."
Adrienne had not yet seen her por
trait. Samson had needed a few hours
of finishing when he left New York,
though It was work which could bo
done away from the model. So it was
natural that when the party reached
Paris Adrienne should soon Insist on
crossing the Pont d’Alexandre III to
his studio near the “Boule Mich” for an
inspection other commissioned canvas.
For a whllo she wandered about the
businesslike place, littered with tho
gear of the painter's' craft. It was, ln
a way, a form of mind-readtng, for
Samson’s brush was the tongue of his
soul.
The girl’s eyes grew thoughtful as
she saw that he still drew the leering,
saturnine face of Jim Asberry.. He
had not outgrown hate, then? But
she said nothing until ho brought out
and set on an easel her own portrait.
For a moment she gasped with sheer
delight for tho colorful jnastery of the
technique, and she would have been
hard to pleasd- had she not been de
lighted with the conception of her
self mirrored ln tho canvas. It was a
faqe through which the soul showed,
and the soul was strong and flawless,
The girl’s personality radiated from
the canvas—and yet— A disappointed
little look crossed and clouded her
eyes She was conscious of an in
definable catch of pain at her heart.
Samson stepped forward, and his
AGE HAS’ ITS COMPENSATION
Philosophical View as Taken by This
Man Seems to Have Mcoh to
Recommend It,
Ho was a lively old cha.) ot past
seventy at a lobster palace table with
a glass of plain water for tipple.
"Of course,” ho was saying to tho
younger men with him, “I tm not as
long for this world as you (Raps are,
If you live to be as old r.s 1 am, but
I have a satisfaction in life that you
haven’t. I know, because when I
was ln my forties every tlino I had
anything the matter with me I got
scared.
“I was afraid that either it would
kill me with only half my life lived or
that It wbb some lingering disease that
would make thirty or forty years of
my life a burden. Nor was I alone
ln thinking that way. Every man of
my age had the same feeling'. 1 think
that comes to most men when they
are about thirty.
“Youth’s carelessness lasts only a
very short time and a mail mighty
soon begins to wonder what will hap-
pon to him next, or how long he will
stay in good shape. Wheh a' man
reaches my ago be begins tu bo care
less again. Most of what will happen
has happened, and he Is through with
it, and what is'to happen nett doesn’t
make muoh difference beoniso ln tho
nature of things It can't last long
whatever It Is and tho finality comes
as a resting spoil and a cessation from
tho worries of the flesh.
"1 know somo old men who don't
take the same view of the.natlves that
1 do, and I am sorry for them, be
cause a man owes it to himself, I
think, to quit bothering shout giving
up when he knows ho bus to do -It
whether or no."
Pleasure In One's W«'k.
Pleasure in work produces a sym
pathetic, teachable mental altitude to
ward tho task. It maker the atten
tion involuntary, and oases the strain
of attending. It stops thei nervous
leaks of worry. Ono of tho -secrets of
lasting well Is to avoid getting stale
and tired and in a mental rut. Pleas
ure gives n sense of freed->m that is a
rest, as a wide road rests the driver.
To know a thing thoroughly and at
tain mastership in It, one mfist bo
drawn back to it repeatedly by its at
tractions, and must find one’B powers
evoked and trained by Its Inspiration.
—Prof.' Edward D. Jones, In Engineer-
-lug Magazine.
Beautiful Recipe Book For Every
Woman.
Wo liavo been asked by tho Callimet
Baking Powder Company ot Chicago to
nnnounco through tho columns ot tills
publication that they lmvo just gotten up
ono of tho best Recipe Books over pub
lished. IG pages ot which are beautifully
Illustrated, showing In tho colors a lot oL’
dainty dishes and good things to unt that
can bo prepared, with Calumet Baking
Powder.
In nddltton to this there nre 252 valu
able recipes and numerous household hints
prepared by tho most noted Domestic Sci
ence teachers and Cooking Experts. ,
Wo know you will find Ibis a very valu
able book, ns you will have use for It
utmost every day.
All '
using i-owuer r-umpuny, v.IIIL-UMO, in.
If you nre not already using Calumet
Baking Powder, -we would suggest that
you try It today. You wIlLflnu It wliole-
Bome and economical to usf.
You will find It a Baking Powder of un.
usual merit and the recipe hook ono or
tho most lionntlfiil and useful hooks of
this kind that you have ever possessed.—
Adv.
A Wrong Impression.
A German looking tor a person by
tho name of Dunn, who owed him
money, asked a young fellow near
Sweony's eating house where No. (ill
Chatham streot was, as ho "wished to
find Mr. Dunn.”
“Tho fellow told him to go into
Sweeny's eating house and the man
near the window \ynn Mr. Dunn. The
German went into tho eating house
and wont tip to a man' who happened
to bo an Irishman.
“Are you Dunn?" asked the German.
"Done?” said, Pat. "By my soul, I
have just started." — Philadelphia
Record.
What They Were Hiding.
"I honestly h’lleve," remarked Aunt
Sarah Jane, "them Oldlmms Is gottin’
to be rog’lar Agnostics. They don’t
kep the family Bible on tho center
table ln the best room now."
"Well," replied Aunt Ann Eliza,
“ ’tlsn’.t their religion they’re hiding.
It’s their age. Them Oldham girls is
getting on.”
Primitive Chinese Stall.
In tho extraction of camphor tho.
Chinese use a most primitive still,
which at (he same time proves of con
siderable more efficacy than might be
expected. The leaves are pHced In a
wicker basket, which Is fix.e.’. over an
UPHt PH iron caldron containing water. On the
waiting eyes, too, were disappointed.' top of the basket a basin of cold water
"You don’t like it, Drennie?" he
auxiously questioned. But she smiled
in answer, and declared:
"I love It.”
He went out a few minutes later to
telephone for her to Mrs. Lescott, and
1 - '« , . , ttef’
Is placed. The steam from thie caldron
passes through theleavoB of Ihe basket
and carrtoB over the camphor vapoig
which is doposlte'd in the form of cam
phor-on the cool under surface-of the
ba3in
Overhead Charges.
Church—The overhoad charges In
tlilB country are something awful.
Gotham—I should say so. I just
read that American women yearly buy
more than $10,000,000 worth of mil
linery supplies from France."
The Instance.
Did you tako particular cognizance
in that saloon?”
"No, sir; 1 took a drink.”
STRENGTH.
Wltheut Overloading The Stomach.
The business man. especially, needs
food in the morning that will not over
load the stomach, but give mental vig
or for tho day.
Much depends on the start a man
gets each day ns to how' he may ex
pect to accomplish the work on hand.
He can’t he alert with a heavy, fried-
moat-and-potatoes breakfast, requiring
a lot of vital energy ln digesting it.
A Calif.,buslness man found a food
combination for producing energy. He
writes:
“For years I was unable to find a
breakfast food that had nutrition
enough to sustain a business man
without ovorloading ills stomach, caus
ing indigestion and kindred ailments.
“Being a very busy and also a very
nervous maxi, I had about decided to
give up breakfast altogether. But luck
ily I was induced to try Grape-Nuts.
‘“Since that morning I have been a
now man; can work without tiring,
my head is clear and my norves strong
-and quiet. *
.“I find that Grape-Nuts, with a little
sugar and a small quantity of cold
milk, makes a delicious morning meal,
which invigorates me for the day’s
business." '
Namo given by Postum Co., Battlo
Creek. Mich. Read, “The Road to Wull-
ville," ln pkgs. ‘There’s a Reason."
IDvcr rend tlie ntiove letterf A isert
one appear* from time to time.' They
